


Lost Without Me

by jasperthefriendlyghost



Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Aftercare, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Teasing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasperthefriendlyghost/pseuds/jasperthefriendlyghost
Summary: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me~?” Papa gave your hand a delicate squeeze, and all you could manage was a nod. He knew for a fact that they weren’t just the lyrics of a song to you, that you would be utterly lost and alone in a world without that man. A faint shudder crawled along your spine at such a thought- if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t want to think about something like that.





	Lost Without Me

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a joke between a friend and I while we were indulging on some NSFW head canons about Papa, when I decided to take it and run with it to get it out of my dirty little mind. Oops? I hope you enjoy reading this sin as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> I also tried my best with both keeping the reader's gender as neutral to allow anyone to enjoy it, and with the Swedish translations (that will be posted at the end in English for everyone). If there's an error please let me know!

The metal guard rail was pleasantly cool against your heated skin, burning body leaning closer in against the bars as the mass of writhing bodies behind you pressed onward, screaming along with out-of-tune voices to the lyrics of Cirice. The top of the rail was the perfect height to press uncomfortably against your ribcage, but you couldn’t find it in you to fuss about it, simply pleased to be this close to the stage and close enough to get a good, long look at your partner upon stage. At this moment, you had the perfect view of his spatter dashes as he swayed down the catwalk of the stage, stopping beside you and lowering that mismatched gaze to meet your own. It wasn’t often that you joined the mass of bodies in the pit, usually tucking yourself backstage and watching from between the curtains. But tonight was full of nervous energy that needed to be burned off, and you knew that this would do it.

  
The screaming behind you only grew louder as Papa’s slender body arched in his usual teasing fashion, with a hand sliding from his chest to just above his endowment. His eyes shut with a look of faux pleasure on his face, the crowd reaching a deafening volume, watching Papa’s legs bow dramatically as he lowered himself to his knees, upon the polished black floor of the stage. The hand that wasn’t occupied with the microphone was extended to you, your legs wobbling against the bodies crushing against your own in desperation to catch those gloved fingers with their own.

  
“ _Can’t you see that you’re lost without me~?_ ” Papa gave your hand a delicate squeeze, and all you could manage was a nod. He knew for a fact that they weren’t just the lyrics of a song to you, that you would be utterly lost and alone in a world without that man. A faint shudder crawled along your spine at such a thought- if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t want to think about something like that.

  
Caught up in the moment and lost in your thoughts, your focus returned when painted lips brushed your knuckles, leaving behind the faintest mark of black and white. Even after releasing your hand, Papa’s gaze didn’t leave yours as he granted the other fans the attention they screamed for, providing them with the lightest of brushes of his fingertips against their own. With a little smile, you made sure he was watching as you lifted the back of your hand to your mouth, lips pressing directly over the mark as a silent promise of what would come later.

  
~

  
You’d made sure to slip out of the ritual a few minutes early, rushing off to the tour bus to sneak in a quick shower and to spruce yourself up. Despite Papa’s constant reassurance that it didn’t matter to him what state you were in, you preferred to keep yourself groomed around him. Bearing a sweat soaked t-shirt and stringy, damp hair after dancing in the crowd wasn’t your idea of attractive, as you tossed your clothing in the corner and stepped into the glass walled shower. The hot water soothed your tired muscles as you leaned back into the stream, any filth that had collected on you throughout the night washing away and down the drain. You knew it would be so much better if he were there to join you, but his meet and greet took first priority tonight.

  
Hanging your damp towel on the bar and putting away the hair dryer, you exited the tiny bathroom and entered the master bedroom that it connected to, ass barely hitting the bed when the main door of the room opened. He looked as tired as he always did after a long night, the contacts gone to avoid irritation, but the black and white paint remaining. Your gaze lingered on him as Papa crossed the bedroom, not once had your appreciation for that black and white uniform faltered in the slightest, and this was no exception. It hugged his elegant form in all the right ways, something that never failed to tighten your throat up and make breathing a little more difficult.

  
You shifted, about to rise to your feet and fetch the makeup wipes for him, but the hand that pressed to your chest stopped you in your tracks, a whisper of “Don’t.” leaving him. Lips slick with paint were pressed against your own, and finally, finally your hands were able to tangle in the shiny black fabric of that fancy coat, bunching up the material at his shoulders. Your chest rose as you brought in a deep breath through your nose, taking all the scents that you had become so familiar with. The grease of his paint, his cologne, the cherry lozenges he soothed his throat with after a show. Everything that was _him_. That was _yours_.

  
He kissed you to breathlessness, a sensation that you were all too familiar with these days. Papa watched you as he slowly pulled away from your parting lips, listening to your soft pants with a chuckle.

  
“You seem impatient, Älskling,” Were his teasing words, the hands that gripped your waist now easing beneath the fabric of your pyjama top. The cool silk of his gloves sent goose bumps rising along your skin, still warm from the earlier crowd and the heat of your shower. You could feel him smirk against your skin as you shivered, kisses trailing from the corner of your mouth to the curve of your jaw.

  
“Coming from the one who won’t even take his makeup off before pouncing on me,” You shot back with a playful shove to his shoulder, enough for Papa to take a step back and offer a challenging eyebrow raise.

  
You expected some sort of verbal response from him, more teasing words or his soft laughter. Instead his hands gripped your waist, heaving you up and practically throwing you onto the bed, the springs squeaking as you bounced upon them. The yelp of surprise hadn’t even left your mouth yet when his lips slammed hard against your own, with a bruising force as Papa crawled over top of you.

  
One hand at a time, the contact between you disappeared, a soft whine of frustration echoing from you. His teeth clamped down on the finger tip of each glove, easing them off with a rustle of silk and falling to the blankets below. Damn him and his teasing, the way his fingers just skirted along the wrinkles of your top, just enough pressure for you to sense through the thick fleece.

  
You knew his gentleness would only last so long, before your hunger for one another became unbearable, when he would devour you whole and force the pleasurable screams up from your very core. But in the beginning he never took it too fast, working at whatever pace you allowed him and waiting for your reassurance that whatever he was doing was okay. You did just that as Papa looked expectantly up at you, fingers hovering at the first button near your throat, lips curving in a little smile with a nod.  
“Go ahead,” Your words were practically a whisper as he gave your lips a final peck, head then bowing as he got to work.

  
The line of buttons along the front of your pyjamas was undone one at a time, a kiss pressed lower along your torso with each one that exposed more of your flushed skin until Papa reached the hem of your pants. The sides of your shirt hung open at your sides, arms comfortably splayed upon the soft pillows and watching him with glazed eyes. Papa’s fingertips dipped into the waistband of your pyjama pants, and you were gasping out your consent before he had even looked up at you, feeling the rush of cold air as the fabric was pulled from your quivering form.

  
Cheeks burned as you watched him, that appreciate gaze sweeping along your exposed form with an expression that words could never describe. You wanted so badly to voice your protests, the fact that he remained fully dressed while you lay in only in your splayed open shirt. Opening your mouth as you felt his hands slide beneath your thighs, the words you had in mind died on your tongue when Papa buried himself between your legs and the heat of his tongue pressing against you, lifting your lower half up to provide him with proper access.

  
“Oh, _fuck_ ~!” Back bowing off the mattress, your eyes rolled back with a breathless cry, feeling that damp heat working at your most intimate areas and circling your entrance. ”P-Papa...”

Your body quivered as he worked the tip of his tongue into you, pain and pleasure mixing into one hazy sensation as the stretch continued. Papa’s thumbs worked gentle circles into your skin to soothe whatever aches it might cause, listening closely to the whines and gasps that you give as he worked you open. Fingers dug into the bed sheets as you heard Papa’s own delighted noises, muffled against you, and god did you ever love it when you listened to him slowly coming apart, all because of you.

  
And as quickly as the wonderful sensation had begun, you were dropped back onto the mattress, thighs clamping against nothing and whimpering at the sudden emptiness. Blinking to clear your bleary vision, you knew what was coming by the rushed movements beneath you, metal clinking as Papa unbuckled his belt and the sound of his fly being unzipped. His own breath came in rough pants, eager hands gripping at you while Papa’s body loomed over your own.

  
You managed to undo only three of the dainty silver buttons that lined his crisp white shirt as Papa guided your legs to wrap around his waist, straining erection brushing against your sweat slicked thigh and sending an eager shiver through your desperate form.

  
“Ready, min skatt?” There wasn’t a single twitch of his muscles as he waited for you to properly gather your words, patient as ever for your consent. You swore that you fell more in love with him every time this happened. Papa never accepted a nod or a mumble at this point, moving only when you pieced together a coherent sentence and could look him in the eye.

  
“Yes, I’m okay, I’m ready... Just- _please_ ,” You blushed at just how pathetic you sounded, begging so desperately for him and staring into his contactless eyes with a lustful fog in your own.

  
Your embarrassment didn’t last long when his mouth descended on your own, tasting yourself on his tongue when it tangled with yours, and a short circuit buzzing in your brain as he sank slowly into you, drinking in any noises you made.

  
This was always the moment that Papa lost himself, when it was always a surprise that the ghouls couldn’t hear you in the tour bus beside your own, or that the bed frame didn’t collapse beneath you. His hips drew back at a torturous pace, until he had nearly pulled out of you, but drove back into you with a harsh snap, a hoarse cry wrenching itself from your throat.

  
“Papa!” You practically shrieked for him the moment your lips were no longer pressed against his own, your hands that had been gripping the pillows now ascending to tangle in his hair, his own hands gripping your hips with a tightness that you knew would leave bruises in the morning.

  
There was nothing more attractive to you on this earth than the sight of that dark hair falling into Papa’s eyes, his elegant composure gone as he panted out your name, the praise, how good you felt around him, hips roughly slamming in and out of you. It was all too much.

  
“You’re so _tight, åh helvete_ ,” He panted against your ear, teeth grazing the outer shell. You felt as though you could melt when Papa slipped into his mother tongue, accent thick as the heat pooled inside you. Eyes slipping shut, you gripped him tighter, hearing him groan lowly at the sharp yank to his black locks.

  
“Ohhh _god_ , harder! _Please_ Pa-” You gasped a little when one hand seized your throat, squeezing in at the sides to catch your attention and snapping your eyes open, pupils blown wide in pleasure. There was a certain possessiveness in his gaze, a glint in his eyes that could only be explained as something you’d see in a wild animal,

  
“Do not,” He spoke with a snarl, still driving into you, “ _Ever_! Call on _him_.” There was a harshness to his words, but nothing that you could ever bring yourself to worry about. It wasn’t anger that he seethed with, but desperation, the need for your attention to be only on Papa and the devil himself. ”My name is to be the only one on your lips tonight,”

  
“Y-Yes- ah~! Yes P-Papa...” His hand released your throat, and the returning rush of blood made you dizzy, the pleasure nearly overwhelming you. Your grasp on reality itself was lost when Papa’s thrusts continued, growing harder with each snap of his hips and the growls under his breath. Tears blurred your vision, running down your cheeks as you choked on a sob of pleasure.

Your hands in his hair instead clawed down his shoulders, ankles digging into the small of his back to push him deeper into you, your voice all but gone as you attempted to scream for him. With a final squeeze of his warm hand around your throat, you were gone as the liquid fire of your orgasm rippled through your trembling body, vision going grey and a sharp scream in your ears that you soon realised was your own.

  
~

 _  
“Käraste_ … Give me a tap if you can hear me,” As you came to, you could hear the concern in your lover’s words, a sign that he had asked more than once. Giving a soft hum of exhaustion, still floating on a cloud of endorphins, your eyes creaked open, wincing in the sudden brightness of the bedroom.

  
“Stop worryin’ so much… ‘M fine,” Seeing Papa reclined on the pillows beside you, panic swimming in his eyes, you reached out with a trembling hand to pat his hip, smiling at the twisted belt and half pulled up zipper that had been done in a rush to check on you. Relief flooded his eyes upon seeing that you were okay, thumb rubbing your flushed cheek. Watching as he reached behind himself to the bedside table, Papa pressed the glass he picked up against your lips, letting the cold water slowly seep into your mouth. You hadn’t even realised you were so thirsty up until this point, suddenly grasping at his wrist and trying to wrench the glass forward so you could drink faster.

  
Papa didn’t let you, keeping his grip firm and reminding you to take it slow, giving a pleased nod and offering a few words of praise when you followed his gentle command. Feeling a little better now, the water clearing your head and soothing your throat, you shifted across the large bed, curling against the vocalist that lay beside you and practically purring.

  
“Better?” He asked, a hand combing through your hair and stroking down your back.

  
“Much,” Was your simple reply, eyelids growing heavy as he drew the cozy blankets over your tired bodies. Uncaring of the paint that would no doubt be smeared across your pillowcases in the morning, Papa’s body pressed tight against your own, multiple kisses raining over your face. “I love you,” You whispered after a kiss landed on your lips, leaning up to return it.

You frowned at the silence as you began to drift off, about to voice your irritation before you felt Papa nuzzling into your hair.

  
“Jag älskar dig av hela mitt hjärta. Vad som än händer kommer mitt hjärta alltid att vara ditt. Du är mitt allt.” Were the words that he whispered to you, stroking a hand along your back. While you could hardly speak a lick of Swedish yourself, after so many months with this wonderful man, you could understand most of the sweet words he said to you.

  
You gripped him tighter, head falling to his chest at those words and listening to that steady thrum in his chest, barely able to keep yourself awake long enough to smile at him. That was all you had managed before you began to drift off again, feeling Papa’s own content sigh ruffling your hair.

  
“ _Dröm sött_ ,” He whispered with a kiss to the top of your head, giving a wave of his hand to shoo off the ghouls that stood outside the bedroom window of the tour bus, gloved hands displaying a thumbs up to their vocalist.

**Author's Note:**

> Älskling: Darling  
> Min skatt: My treasure  
> åh helvete: Ah, hell  
> Käraste: Dearest  
> Jag älskar dig av hela mitt hjärta. Vad som än händer kommer mitt hjärta alltid att vara ditt. Du är mitt allt:  
> I love you with all my heart. Whatever happens my heart will always be yours. You are my everything.  
> Dröm sött: Sweet dreams


End file.
